The factory loomed against the night sky like a sleeping beast, all sharp angles and smokestacks. The sign above the main entrance read "Ironforge Runic Components Ltd." but half the letters had burned out, leaving only "Irnorg Run om ts." Fitting, Kaelen thought, for a place that was now producing corrupted goods instead of legitimate magical equipment.
"Three entrances," Lia said quietly, crouched beside him on the rooftop across the street. She'd inscribed observation runes that let them see heat signatures through the factory walls. "Main entrance has two guards. Loading dock in back has one. And there's a ventilation shaft on the east side that's unguarded but would be a tight squeeze."
"How many people inside?" Kaelen asked.
"Eleven heat signatures. Three in the main production floor, five in what looks like an office area, three scattered in other sections." Lia's runes flickered, providing more detail. "The ones on the production floor have... wrong energy signatures. Corrupted. The others might be hostages or converted workers."
Ronan studied the building through a spyglass. "Selene said eight to twelve cultists. If most of the workers have been converted, this gets complicated. We can't just charge in swinging."
"So what's the plan?" Kaelen asked.
"You and I go in through the loading dock," Ronan said. "Quiet approach, neutralize the guard, make our way to the production floor. That's where the corruption will be strongest—perfect for Soulrender to absorb. Lia, you take the ventilation shaft, get to the office area. If there are hostages, get them out. If there are cultists, don't engage—just gather information and fall back."
"I can fight," Lia protested.
"I know you can," Ronan said patiently. "But your purification magic is our ace. If Kaelen starts losing control to the corruption, you're the only one who can pull him back. Can't do that if you're bleeding out from a cultist's dagger."
Lia looked like she wanted to argue, but finally nodded. "Fine. But if shooting starts, I'm not hiding in a vent."
"Noted." Ronan checked his weapons one last time. "Kaelen, remember the objective: absorb ambient corruption, disrupt the operation, minimize civilian casualties. Don't use Soulrender's core power unless absolutely necessary. We're here to stabilize your Scar count, not add to it."
"Understood," Kaelen said. He could feel Soulrender humming with anticipation at his hip. The sword could sense the corruption in the factory, the feast of shadow energy waiting to be consumed. *Ready, wielder?* it asked. *Ready to hunt?*
"Always with the dramatic phrasing," Kaelen muttered. "But yes. Ready."
They moved.
Lia split off toward the east side, her movements silent and practiced. Ronan and Kaelen approached the loading dock from the south, using the shadows and debris piles for cover. The guard—a man in worker's coveralls with a bone-white mask covering the lower half of his face—paced back and forth, bored and inattentive.
Ronan gestured: *I'll distract, you neutralize.*
Kaelen nodded. Ronan picked up a piece of scrap metal and threw it into the alley beyond the loading dock. It clattered loudly, and the guard's head snapped toward the sound. He moved to investigate, leaving his post.
Kaelen was on him in three silent steps. A precise strike to the nerve cluster at the base of the neck, and the guard collapsed, unconscious. No kill, no corruption absorbed, but one problem solved.
They dragged the body behind a dumpster and slipped into the factory.
The interior smelled wrong—not the honest smell of industry and metal, but something sickly-sweet and wrong, like fruit rotting from the inside out. Shadow corruption had soaked into the walls, the floor, the very air. Kaelen could feel Soulrender straining toward it, eager to feed.
*Not yet,* Kaelen told the sword. *Wait until we reach the source.*
They moved through corridors lined with runic manufacturing equipment, all of it dormant or running at minimal power. The factory should have been bustling even on a night shift, but it was eerily quiet except for a rhythmic hammering sound coming from the production floor ahead.
Ronan held up a fist: *Stop.* He pointed to the floor, where shadows moved independently of any light source, flowing like liquid toward the production area. This wasn't normal shadow. This was active corruption, being channeled deliberately.
They crept to the production floor entrance and peered through the partially open door.
The sight made Kaelen's stomach turn.
The production floor had been converted into a ritual space. Rune-forging equipment had been pushed aside to make room for a massive shadow magic circle, drawn in what looked like ink but smelled like blood. Three cultists in full regalia stood at the cardinal points of the circle, channeling energy into a pile of runic components at the center—circuits, batteries, focusing crystals. Everything needed to make magical equipment function.
And the corruption was flowing into them like poison, twisting the runic patterns, inverting their purposes, turning tools of creation into weapons of destruction.
"They're not just making faulty products," Kaelen whispered. "They're making bombs. Those components will explode when activated."
"Worse," Ronan said grimly. "They'll leak corruption first, slowly poisoning anyone nearby, *then* explode. Maximum casualties, maximum terror. Marcus's work, no doubt."
Kaelen's hand moved to Soulrender's hilt. "We stop them. Now."
"Wait," Ronan cautioned. "Look at the shadows. The concentration of corruption. If you absorb that all at once—"
"I know the risks," Kaelen said. "But if we wait, they complete the ritual and ship those corrupted components across Eredor. How many people die then?"
Ronan's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Alright. We do this fast and precise. I'll take the two on the flanks. You take the lead cultist and start absorbing. Channel it slow and controlled, like Lia taught you."
"And if it's too much?"
"Then I drag you out and Lia purifies you. But let's try not to need plan B."
They burst through the door simultaneously.
Kaelen went left, Ronan right. The cultists had maybe a second to register the intrusion before Ronan's crossbow took one in the shoulder and Kaelen's blade found the second's leg. Not kill shots—disable shots, leaving the cultists alive but unable to continue the ritual.
The lead cultist, however, was faster than his companions. He spun toward Kaelen, shadow magic already crackling around his hands, and unleashed a blast of corrupted energy.
Kaelen met it with Soulrender.
The blade drank the attack like water, absorbing the shadow magic, pulling it in. And then Kaelen opened himself to the ambient corruption in the room, letting Soulrender feed.
It was like opening a floodgate.
Power rushed into the sword, through the sword, into Kaelen. The ambient shadow energy that had been slowly corrupting the factory came streaming toward Soulrender in visible tendrils, drawn by the blade's hunger. The ritual circle flickered and died as its power source was drained. The corrupted components began to glow and crack, their twisted runes failing without the sustaining energy.
*Yes!* Soulrender sang. *Yes! Feast! FEAST!*
Kaelen could feel the sword growing stronger, feel his connection to it deepening. But more importantly, he could feel his Shadow Scar count... not changing. The absorbed energy was feeding the blade, not corrupting him further. It was working.
But it was also almost too much to handle.
The sheer volume of shadow energy flooding through him was like trying to drink from a waterfall. His knees buckled. His vision blurred. He could feel the sword trying to take advantage, trying to seize more control while he was overwhelmed.
*Partner,* Kaelen gasped mentally. *We're partners. Remember?*
*Yes,* Soulrender replied, and there was something almost like respect in its voice. *Partners. Very well. We shall manage this together.*
The flood became a stream, still powerful but controllable. Kaelen straightened, his blade now wreathed in shadows so thick they looked solid. The lead cultist backed away, fear visible even through his bone mask.
"You... you can't... that's too much power for any wielder to control..."
"I'm not controlling it," Kaelen said, his voice steady despite the strain. "I'm channeling it. There's a difference."
He advanced, and the cultist tried to flee. Ronan intercepted him with a precisely thrown knife that pinned the cultist's robe to a support pillar.
"Nobody's leaving," Ronan said, securing the other two cultists with binding runes. "You're going to answer questions. Starting with: how many other sites like this are operating?"
Before the cultist could answer—or refuse—an explosion rocked the factory from above.
Kaelen's head snapped toward the sound. "That came from the office area. Lia."
He was running before Ronan could stop him, taking the stairs three at a time, Soulrender still gorged with absorbed shadow energy crackling in his hand. The office level was chaos—overturned furniture, scorch marks on the walls, and in the center of it all, Lia facing down two cultists while trying to protect three cowering workers.
One of the cultists was preparing a killing blow, shadow magic gathered for a devastating strike aimed not at Lia but at the hostages behind her. Kaelen had maybe two seconds to act.
No time for precision. No time for controlled technique.
He released a fraction of the energy Soulrender had just absorbed.
A blade of pure shadow erupted from his sword, crossing the distance faster than thought, and severed the attacking cultist's arm at the elbow. The man's scream was cut short as Ronan's follow-up shot took him in the chest with a tranquilizer dart. The second cultist tried to run and met the same fate.
Silence fell, broken only by the sobbing of the rescued workers.
Lia stared at Kaelen, at the shadows still wreathing his blade, at the power he'd just displayed. "Are you... are you in control?"
Kaelen took stock. The Shadow Scars on his arm were the same as before—twenty-nine, no new ones. The absorbed energy was still sitting in Soulrender, refined and waiting. He felt powerful, but not overwhelmed. Not lost.
"I'm in control," he confirmed, letting the shadows dissipate. "Are you hurt?"
"Bruised, exhausted, but functional." Lia moved to check on the workers—a middle-aged woman and two younger men, all of them in shock. "They're not corrupted, just terrified. The Cult was using them as leverage to force cooperation from other workers."
"How many others?" Kaelen asked.
"Six," the woman said, her voice shaking. "Six of us they took. Said if we didn't help with the 'special project,' they'd kill our families. I don't know where the others are now."
Ronan appeared in the doorway, slightly winded from the stairs. "Cultists downstairs are secure. I've sent a signal to Selene—she'll have Shadow Hunter support here in ten minutes to extract the prisoners and evidence." He looked at Kaelen. "How are you feeling? That was a lot of corruption to absorb."
"Strange," Kaelen admitted. "Powerful, but not overwhelmed. Like I just ate a huge meal—full, but not sick. The energy is in the sword, not me."
"Good," Ronan said. "That's exactly how it should work. You just completed your first controlled corruption absorption. Selene will be impressed."
As if summoned by her name, a figure appeared in the window—Selene, rappelling down from the roof with the grace of long practice. She swung into the office, assessed the situation in a single glance, and nodded with what might have been approval.
"Efficient," she said. "Minimal casualties, hostages rescued, corruption absorbed and contained. This is what competent operations look like." She moved to examine one of the unconscious cultists. "We'll interrogate these ones, see what they know about other sites. In the meantime..." She turned to Kaelen. "How do you feel?"
"Like I just passed a test," Kaelen replied.
"You did." Selene's silver eyes met his. "Welcome to the Shadow Hunter network, Kaelen Voss. For real this time. You've proven you can fight the Cult without becoming what you're fighting. That's rarer than you'd think."
"So what's next?" Kaelen asked.
"Next, we hunt." Selene pulled out a small notebook filled with locations and coordinates. "We have seventeen confirmed corruption sites across Eredor and the surrounding territories. You're going to visit each one, absorb the corruption, disrupt the Cult's operations, and slowly strangle Marcus's supply lines. It's not glamorous work, but it's necessary."
"And in between?" Lia asked.
"Training," Selene said. "Kaelen needs to get better at everything—swordsmanship, magical control, tactical thinking. You need to research advanced purification techniques and life-force conservation. And Ronan..." She smiled slightly. "Ronan needs to stop pretending he's retired and accept that he's back in the game."
"I hate you," Ronan said without heat.
"I know." Selene headed for the window. "Clean-up crew will be here in five. Get the hostages somewhere safe, then get some rest. You've earned it. Next operation briefing is in two days."
She disappeared into the night, leaving the team alone with their victory, their exhaustion, and the knowledge that this was just the beginning.
"First hunt complete," Kaelen said, looking at Soulrender. The blade pulsed once, satisfied, then went quiet. "How many more to go?"
"Sixteen confirmed sites," Ronan said. "Probably more undiscovered. This is going to be a long campaign."
"Then let's get started," Lia said, helping the hostages to their feet. "We have work to do."
They led the rescued workers out of the factory, into the night, toward safety. Behind them, Shadow Hunter agents materialized from the darkness, securing the site, collecting evidence, making the chaos disappear as if it had never been.
This was the life now. Hunt the Cult. Absorb corruption. Stay human. Repeat.
Kaelen Voss had found his purpose. It was dangerous, exhausting, and potentially fatal.
But it was his.
And for now, that was enough.